The Unhappy Holiday
by KLMeri
Summary: Wherein Jim wants both, Leonard wants only one, and Spock isn't aware of wanting at all.  pre-K/S/M


**Title**: The Unhappy Holiday  
><strong>Author<strong>: klmeri  
><strong>Fandom<strong>: Star Trek AOS  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: pre-Kirk/Spock/McCoy  
><strong>Warning<strong>: lack of happily-ever-after  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: Just entertaining myself during what appears to be a lonely holiday.  
><strong>Summary<strong>: Wherein Jim wants both, Leonard wants only one, and Spock isn't aware of wanting at all.  
><strong>AN**: This is not my fault. I started writing with thoughts of fluffy Christmas K/S/M in my head. Then I realized how unhappy they would be if they weren't together.

* * *

><p>It's not that they don't talk about it. Well, to be truthful, they <em>don't <em>talk about it (but that doesn't mean all sentiment goes unnoticed, Jim argues to himself). What bothers the man most is the lack of certainty usually inherit in "talking about it". Sometimes he thinks he could be free floating in his own feelings, tethered by no one, and be none-the-wiser of his lonely predicament. Then Bones will lazily caress the back of his hand with a thumb when all other eyes are turned away; or Spock will consider him for a moment too long after they finish discussing whatever ship business needs to be discussed.

No, he cannot be the only one. (Would that make him desperate if he is?)

Still, if Jim had some sweet words to think of, to repeat to himself at night, this holiday season would be less of a trial and more of a fond memory. As it stands, the only words he can recall are "don't out-do yourself this year, kid" (Bones warning him not to get drunk on Scotty's infamous eggnog again) and an uncomprehending lift of Spock's eyebrow partnered with "I do not enjoy such activities" when he suggested a small, somewhat private celebration of the old Terran Christmas.

With a suppressed sigh, Jim commands the lighting system of his quarters to zero percent and slides between the stiff sheets of his single-sized bed. He turns on his side, fitting his cheek into the crook of his arm, and closes his eyes. In the settling silence, the Captain of the Enterprise imagines the words he wants to hear (but would never ask for); they sound something like "I love you, Jim" and "you are not alone."

But he is alone. Oh, but he is.

* * *

><p>There is a problem to be addressed and, <em>not <em>tackling it, Leonard breaks the seal of a vintage bottle of bourbon and tries thinking of absolutely nothing instead. It's his luck that alcohol has the effect of making him linger over that problem more, not less.

Grimacing, Leonard abandons the bourbon for coffee and lowers the lights in his office as a silent dare to anyone who might want to ruin his self-imposed isolation. The coffee isn't strong like the liquor but it won't put him to sleep, either.

The problem exists in two aspects: what Leonard knows, and what Leonard does not know.

He knows he might have feelings for Jim. He knows, after much discreet observation, Spock certainly has feelings for Jim.

Spock + Jim =/= Jim + Leonard

The math comes out screwy.

He does not know Jim's feelings for either the CMO or the First Officer. He imagines, however, that those feelings are platonic. And if they aren't platonic, then Spock is going to be the winner of _that _prize. Finishing this thought, he almost reaches for the recently shelved bourbon again.

Only Leonard would find himself in this horrid position. He likes Spock well enough. In fact, he likes Spock well enough that he wouldn't want to hurt the poor bastard by snaring the Captain's affections; because, Lord knows, Spock won't make a move in the next hundred years, given the Vulcan's proclaimed philosophy on emotional restraint. Hence by (human) rights (_all is fair in love and war_, someone once said), he could take the advantage while he has it, Spock's fragile feelings be damned.

The thought makes the doctor's face flush with guilt.

Leonard sighs around a mouthful of hot coffee before shoving away the cup and pillowing his head on his arms.

Nope.

The problem is simply going to continue to be a problem. It doesn't help that Christmas is a time for family of the heart as well as of the blood; that it is a time to keep company with those you love and, more importantly, to let your loved ones know you love them.

As a man without love, Leonard harbors no illusion he will enjoy the holiday as much as everyone else.

* * *

><p>Minutes before 1700, Spock's team of diligent and loyal scientists set aside their work and burst into excited activity and unusual cheer. Chekov, who is a new addition under Spock's tutelage, turns to the Vulcan still seated before a computer terminal and inquires politely, "Mr. Spock?"<p>

In a slight motion, Spock turns his head. "Yes, Mr. Chekov?"

"The party, Sir—can we...?"

"Yes," he interrupts calmly, having been aware of the building anticipation in the laboratory for some time. "You are dismissed." He adds after a second's thought, "It will not be necessary to resume the experiment before the next stardate."

This news further heightens the cheer. Interesting.

His team thanks him profusely; they seem to relish the idea of not working for the remainder of their appointed shifts after a "company Christmas party". Spock does not entirely understand this attitude, for as a Vulcan he rests when he must and works otherwise to keep his mind suitably engaged.

Acknowledging the gratitude of his subordinates, Spock returns to his computer as the lab empties of personnel. Soon, he is alone, listening only to the hum of the equipment and quiet hiss of air pumping through an overhead duct. Around him is a kind of peace he normally enjoys, except...

The computer makes a noise of protest and rejects his inputted string of logic as _Error: Code Invalid_. Spock's fingers remain poised over a line of buttons; his mind, bizarrely, is still.

...except he is doing something wrong.

The thought comes from no area of his mind he can discern.

It has nothing to do with the gathering he does not wish to attend; of that much Spock feels certain. The party is simply another invitation to be dismissed. No one faults him for his preference of solitude (excluding, of course, Doctor McCoy who strives to be a daily annoyance), and no one seeks to persuade him otherwise.

For no explainable reason, he finds the latter part of that conclusion to be surprisingly disturbing.

Should not the Captain, perhaps, insist...?

No.

Illogical. A human wish.

He fixes the fault in the string and re-enters it into the computer in a short span of seconds. The terminal accepts the corrected code with a soft beep of confirmation and proceeds to run the program.

While there is work to be done, he will be occupied; and Spock does not foresee a time when work might be absent upon a starship like the Enterprise.

_-Fini_


End file.
